


Divided

by BookishTea



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Arguing, Childhood Friends, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Fighting Kink, Fights, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, I Blame Tumblr, Jealousy, Kyman - Freeform, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Some Humor, Summer Romance, Summer Vacation, Unresolved Emotional Tension, stanman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7602883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookishTea/pseuds/BookishTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day before summer break starts, Kyle and Stan have a friendship changing fight. Unable to apologize to one another, they focus their efforts on Eric Cartman, who's also staying home for the holidays. Here, he finds himself in a new and confusing position. *Ratings may change (Kyman) (Stanman)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fight

The laughter and excited chattering was infectious, as it was the last day of school. Everyone was looking forward to summer vacation, especially if it meant leaving South Park behind to go on some much needed holidays.

Of course, not everyone had these luxuries. Mainly, Stan and Kyle.

It had been planned for Kyle's family that they would visit their uncle, a visit which would take them over the state border into New Jersey. If he had to be honest, Kyle had been looking forward to reuniting with his place of birth, maybe wandering familiar streets and showing sights to Ike.

But then his mother had ruined everything. He wasn't sure what had started it, but the next thing everyone knew was that his mother and uncle Murrey were fighting.

The night before as Kyle packed his suitcase for the anticipated trip, his father came into the room and sat Kyle down, explaining that there had been a change in plans.

_"You can just unpack everything, Kyle. We aren't going anywhere."_

_"What?! But why?"_

_Gerald sighed, rubbing at the side of his face as he explained, "Your mother and uncle Murrey are having a disagreement, so our trip will be delayed."_

_Kyle chewed on his bottom lip, fighting back the desire to spit out a slew of curses, "For how long?" He had been more than prepared to hear the inevitable, 'forever, we aren't going'. But it was outpaced by a lengthy pause, which only fuelled the hollowed sensation of his stomach and its despair._

_After considering it for a second, Gerald slowly responded, "We should let things cool between them, but we'll try again in two weeks."_

_"Two weeks?!"_

_His father shrugged, "If things still aren't better, we can always try going somewhere else." He stood up from the edge of the bed where he been sitting, "I'm sorry, son. Things aren't always meant to be." He patted Kyle's head reassuringly before he left, leaving his eldest to frown at his almost finished suitcase. Angrily he grabbed it, and upturned the heavy luggage, letting his things spill out in a messy avalanche._

The next day he had told himself that it didn't matter, that at least he could spend time with Stan over the course of the break. Kyle took a form of satisfaction that he wouldn't be alone in his misery, as everyone in the school knew how Randy Marsh had fucked up his family's tickets to a tropical getaway.

How the summer weather and its fruity drinks, beaches, and brilliant sunshine had been lost forever to deary snow and mountain range(s). They had all watched as an excited Stan entered the school, happily saying goodbyes and wishful thinking of a new tanned version of himself. The downfall from this, was a gloom that cringed at any mentions of the should have been tropical adventure. In all likelihood the wounds were still raw and red, so when Kyle mentioned the last day to Stan that they'd get to chum around, two trapped losers, Stan was less than pleased.

An argument was the last thing Kyle expected, enough to blindside him completely. But after he got over the shock, the defensive words were already slipping out of his mouth, furious as he retaliated.

"That's not what I meant Stan!"

"Oh, so what did you mean, Kyle? That I should take joy in being some 'loser'?!"

Kyle exhaled deeply, clenching his hands tightly until his fingernails dug into his palms, " **No**. All I was saying was that at least we have each other, there's no need to be melodramatic over everything I say."

"I'm melodramatic now?" Stan scoffed, and the sound echoed in the thinning halls. There was a hushed tone that lingered, eyes watching as these two best friends fought. Some were considerate enough to pretend that they weren't listening as they rummaged through their lockers, making the mechanics of zipping up a backpack or relacing a shoe purposely slow.

"Yes, you are. You're taking everything I'm saying out of context! I know you're upset about your father being an idiot, but that doesn't give you the right to take it out on me!"

"Don't" Stan hissed, "call my dad an idiot."

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Well it's true, and everyone knows it." He tried to catch someone else's eye, hoping through a nod to show Stan he was being riled up for no reason. In that strange and hostile environment, no one would meet his gaze. And if his eyes skimmed over them, they bustled to cower or run away.

The next words that were said from his friend's mouth had him stiffening, and like a gear toy, he haltingly turned around.

"At least...at least my mom isn't a _bitch_."

This individual had been his closest friend for years, a person he could fully trust when he wasn't able to with so many others. The pain that flashed over him was real, one with such startling clarity, that he was baffled at the concept of experiencing anything else.

" _What did you just say?"_

That yanked the floodgates open, and before he could drown within the meaning of it, Stan tripped over his words as he added more on. Hoping vainly that maybe he could rise above the murkiness of it, and if he couldn't, at least he could drag Kyle further down.

"I...I said that your mother is a bitch. And you know, if this is how you treat your friends...then maybe we shouldn't, uh, we shouldn't be that anymore."

Kyle merely stared, unsure how to process the change in their relationship, over the tidal wave that threatened to consume him. He was vaguelly aware of the red that began to tinge his vision, the overpowering sensation of needing to hit something or someone. Hitting Stan. Hitting Stan repeatedly, to make him feel just as bad. The words he lashed out with were painful, stabbing his belly with tiny invisible knives as they wrenched on his heart.

"Fine! Good riddance, I don't need you, I'll be better off!"

There was a pause, no one knew what to do. They just remained there, staring at one another until Stan looked away. In the brief second that he glanced to the side, he was running down the halls, trying to leave the awful feelings of their fight behind. Kyle glared after him, oblivious to the whispers of his classmates.

* * *

That first step outside was purgatory, caught between entering a dream or a nightmare. Stan couldn't tell the difference, though the guilt was immediate. He wanted to go back and apologize, an unknown without Kyle was too much. But to admit his wrongdoings would be a punch to the gut, one he could live without.

Blindly he walked without a destination, going over the events that had just transpired, and wove them into different angles and other things he could have said. Insults that were witty, and comebacks that Kyle would be dumbfounded to hear. Thinking of these things left a bitter and heady taste in Stan's mouth, tainting until his guilt was eclipsed.

He resolved that he wouldn't turn back, that it was below him. How it wasn't his fault, it was Kyle's. A friend that always had to be right, the smartest with the clean moral compass and principles.

_I always apologize, he should do it for once_ , Stan thought with a frown. Now the trick was finding something to do that didn't involve his best fr- _former best friend_.

At that moment Stan began to realize how far he'd walked, taking in his surroundings with frank surprise. In the grey horizon, he caught a glimpse of red in a convenience store's parking lot. He rose a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun's rays, squinting until he finally realized who it was. Adjusting his backpack's straps, he hurried to make his way over.


	2. Pussies In The Rain

"Hey!"

Eric turned around, momentarily pausing in his slurping. He waited until the other boy jogged up to him, confused and slightly irritated.

"Sup' dude?" he mumbled.

Stan grinned in what he hoped was a pleasant manner, he eyed his childhood friend. The tops of his jacket were unbuttoned, letting the cool breeze have an easier access to his heated skin. Carelessly held within his hand was a large slushie, the plastic cup chilled and sweating as the brunette slowly sucked up the thick red liquid through an obnoxious yellow straw.

"What are you doing?"

Eric shrugged, shifting the weight of his bulky bag. And from the motion, Stan noticed the bottom of the fabric had a dark patch. His eyes skimmed over it for a second, before his attention was drawn back to the taller boy.

The lack of response was disheartening, but he pushed on, desperate to fill his now empty time. "Do...do you mind if we hang out?"

"No, but..." Stan was struck with the appearance of Eric looking...embarrassed? As if he'd been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do, he waited until the other found the courage to continue speaking, "don't you want to be with the Jew?"

Absently Eric chewed on the tip of the straw, and Stan found himself staring at the sight with a grimace, "No, we're...we had a fight."

"Ah"

Stan blushed, glancing away from the knowing grin. For a distraction as Eric mulled his words over, he surveyed the desolate air of the street. The sky had once been the exact shade of a robin's egg, with clouds that shifted overhead like tectonic plates. Now they were greying, dulling the town until it was a breath away from splitting open into a freezing shower. Maybe it was this foreshadowed storm, but the streets were empty.

No houses had their lights on, leaving the impression that there was no else in this world besides Stan and Cartman. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with that notion.

"Okay, you can come with me."

Stan smiled, opening his mouth to speak when Eric promptly cut him off, "But you can't tell anyone about what's going to happen, okay?"

The request was puzzling, but Stan nodded. _What did I get myself into?_

Apparently satisfied, Eric gestured for the other boy to follow him by the inclination of his head. Resuming the task of drinking his slushie, Eric started to head in the direction of downtown, not once casting a glance behind him to make sure that he was being followed.

Together, they ventured on in unison.

The pace was quicker than he expected, as if Cartman had an important place to be, but besides that it was relaxed. For all of the commotion the brunette usually circled himself with, once you caught him by himself, he was rather quiet. The slurping had even gotten lighter, almost methodically as he occasionally chewed on the straw.

_When's the last time we've done something by ourselves?_ Stan's brows knitted together, rummaging through his memories. Only, nothing stood out. Why was that?

Betraying him, his mind conjured up the image of his previous best friend, and all of the times they hung out together. And when it wasn't Kyle, it was Kenny.

Stan frowned, wondering how Cartman was dealing with the fact that even Kenny had gone away. Speaking of which, why was Cartman here? From the corner of his eye, he studied his company.

He was almost like a shadow, mute even against the grinding hush of the streets. The silence was setting Stan on edge, he couldn't stand it, but to Cartman...he didn't seem to mind it. Comforted by its presence, he was able to slip into his mind as his body took over, performing the mechanical task of walking and breathing with blank ease. He had made the journey a numbing amount of times, it was almost like second nature now.

Back pressed against the chill of the evening breeze, these two forms ended up on the sidewalk of the storefront, passing each glistening glass pane without any interest. Even Stan didn't forlornly peer in, lusting over the newest toy or additions. The things he wanted, but knew were much too expensive for his parents to purchase on Christmas or his birthday.

They had passed the nail salon, when Eric made a sharp left turn into the alleyway. Stan hesitated, but soon followed him into the shrouded area. There was a distinct smell of garbage, and a sour note of rotting fruit, it had Stan gagging. While he pressed his arm against his nose, breathing in the familiar scent of his laundry detergent, he carefully walked around questionable bags of filth that littered the path.

With another bubbling thought of disgust, the condom left huddled against the brick wall of the building was noticed, nauseatingly used.

"Cartman" he whined, "what are are doing here?"

He was shushed, Eric pausing to cast a glare in his direction as he continued on, this time much slower. Eventually they came to a dead end, blocked by a makeshift gate made from soaked planks of wood. One of the middle pieces had a chunk broken off from the bottom, and underneath the dirt was upturned. Like something had dug its way in...Stan glanced around, or out...

Slowly Eric removed his backpack, placing it on the dirty ground, setting his drink next to it.

_Zzzziiiipppp_

From his backpack he removed first a faded bowl, its glass body chipped and scratched in some places, which he placed to the side. Next he pulled the source of the leaking, a half full carton of milk, having a warm smell to it.

As he remained crouched, he poured the entire contents of the carton into the bowl, leaving it frothy and pale. It was put as far away from him as Eric could get, without moving from his position. With a lot of grunting and curses, he climbed his way back onto his feet, lastly shoving a gloved hand into his coat pocket. Stan peered over his shoulder, more precisely at the tightly clasped fish shaped treats. Cat food.

He dropped it into a little pile by the bowl, wiping his now crumb ridden gloves onto the side of his belly absently. Content with his handiwork, he gave a curt nod then ushered Stan a few paces back.

Stan tried to question what was happening, when Eric pressed his elbow into his gut. Silencing a yelled complaint with a hissed, "Look!"

_Scratchhh scrattcchh_

What crept forward caught Stan off guard, enough that he dropped his arm, the lithe form reminded him of a miniature tiger. Slunk low to the ground, it cautiously walked forward from under the planks, steps sure footed as it stared at them. It took no suspicion of Cartman, but for Stan, it was naturally wary.

Chartreuse eyes bore into his own, not once looking away as the kitten approached the bowl. It waited for a second, after deeming him not a threat, lapped at the milk with relish.

Slowly, to not startle it, Stan turned to Eric. Who smirked at him with a raised brow, and Stan's eyes dipped to those bared teeth. They had been stained from the drink, turning them a shade of red. Stan shivered, he looked as much of a predator as the eating kitten.

"What is it?" he whispered.

Eric waited for a moment before responding, admiring the hungry form, "Champ, she's a toyger. A 'toy tiger'."

"...Champ?"

"It's her _name_ , Stan. It's short for _Champawat_."

Stan weakly blinked, and Eric scoffed, "Don't you know anything? It's the name of the notorious man-eating tigress, she lived in Nepal then North India until she got shot."

"And you think that's a good name to give?"

He shrugged, "It was already predetermined." Ignoring the skeptical eyes of his friend, Eric slipped the glove off of his right hand, and showed it off.

"Is that...?"

"Yep, it happened when we first met. I went to pick her up and get her out of the rain, which is when she bit my hand." He appraised the bandaged portion proudly for a second before he slipped the glove on, "It was my fault, we weren't friends yet."

An awkward silence followed, and for a time no wanted to say anything, until Eric rose his attention heavenwards.

"C'mon, let's go home. It's going to piss rain soon."

Stan made a noncommittal sound from the back of his throat, watching as Eric stepped forward to retrieve his now empty bowl, and how Champ wasn't fazed in the least. How she rubbed her small head against the extended hand of Cartman's when he offered it, and the purrs that came forth like tiny quakes of thunder.

This was a tender side that he'd rarely seen, and he couldn't help but feel honoured by it. He waited until Champ stalked her way back under the wood, vanishing in a blink of an eye as Cartman grabbed his things and placed them into his bag. Plucking his slushie up from the ground, he resumed in his slurping. And Stan didn't mind as much.

Cracks of the sunset managed to slip past the thick barrage of clouds, like molten veins that shined through the darkness of the upcoming storm. As they headed back, the sky roared. A second later, rain fell in sheets, hammering the two boys until the arrived soaked on their street. The absurdity of his day had a smile plastered on Stan's face, and he was glad that Cartman shared it, chuckling as they hurried for their homes.

Sliding on the slick concrete, Stan said his goodbyes as the brunette turned off at his house, moving on with a hopeful smile. He was completely unaware that he was being watched.

* * *

They observed their laughter and the eventual departure with distaste, narrowing as both the boys entered their homes.

That emerald stare blinked, and the grip on the curtains tightened. Wordlessly, he let go and stomped his way out of the room, oblivious as he went down the stairs and opened his front door that an inquiry was made by his brother.

Uncaring that he was barefoot and without the protection of his coat, Kyle reached his destination in mere seconds. He angrily knocked on the door, tapping his foot against the wood of the porch as he waited.

He was soon awarded with a drawn out groan and frustrated steps that echoed from the house. A lock was slid back, and the door swung open.

"What do you want St-" Eric floundered for a second, genuinely taken aback to see the shorter boy, much less fuming and disheveled.

_He's kind of hot like that_ , Eric thought, but he immediately squashed it. But he didn't have time to think any further, Kyle shoved his way inside.

"Oi! That's trespassing, I can get you arrested from that!"

"Kiss my ass, Cartman" Kyle shot back over his shoulder.

Glaring after him, Eric huffed as he shut the door, grumbling as he followed his unexpected and unwanted guest into the living room, "You'd love it if I did."

Muddy footprints led him to the couch, where the owner of the hobbit feet lounged regally, like it didn't matter that he tracked dirt everywhere.

"So,"

Eric rose a brow, "So...?"

Kyle sniffed before answering, eyes narrowing as he assessed the heavier boy, "I saw you with Stan today.."

"...And what's your point? We do go to the same school, Kahl."

"That doesn't mean anything! You have classes with Wendy, do you hang out with _her?"_

His response was a cringe.

"Exactly! So I want to know what you two were talking about!"

Eric's face broke out in a smirk, "So that's what's going on. You're jealous!"

Kyle stiffened, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared, with anger that he hoped would burn Eric's eyeballs out of his skull. "I am not! Will you just answer the question?!"

Unable to stop himself from chuckling, Eric shook his head in delight, "What, you don't want to be replaced? Is that it, Kahl?"

"Will you fuck off, Cartman! Were you guys talking about me or not?!"

He gave a lazy shrug, lying he said, "I hate to admit this, but you weren't brought up at all." After letting that sink in for a second, he continued, "Why did something happen..?" Of course he knew the story of the two wonder-douches' fight, but did he care? No.

What he did care however, was the flicker of emotions on Kyle's face before he boarded them up with righteous fury. He left without a word, slamming the door behind him.

Eric waited for a few seconds, keenly listening as the splashing sounds got further and further away. He pulled out his cell from his pants pocket, quick to send a text off.

**kenny, u wont believe what just happened!!!**

Just as he hit send, he got a response.

**????**

Giggling, Eric spent the rest of his evening retelling that day's events, of course highly censored and outrageous to make him seem better. His confidante was skeptical.


	3. Burn The Witticism

"Oh, fuck me!"

Grunting loudly at the pounding sound that slammed against his skull, Eric ventured downstairs from his heavenly bed to the source of the noise. He unlocked it, and with a snarl yanked it open with more force than necessary.

Slowly Kyle exhaled from his nostrils, caught off guard by the vision of a bedraggled Eric, clad only in his boxers glaring at him. How pale and soft looking he was compared to himself, near polar opposites.

"Eyes up here, pervert."

Kyle pursed his lips, lifting his gaze to the door's trim, "Today we're going to hang out."

"You're shitting me?"

Angrily he lowered his eyes again, "No, and you can't weasel your way out of this, Cartman!" Frustrated, the other boy drew out an exaggerated groan, viciously dragging both hands down his face.

"Dear God, what did I do to deserve this?!"

" _We're_ " Kyle deliberately stressed, "going to the Denver library. They have room after room of books to read, and after that we'll visit the planetarium a-"

"Can I bring a friend?"

Kyle opened his mouth, but promptly shut it. They stood there, staring at one another until he found himself able to speak, "We're...who would you even _bring?"_

"Craig."

"Craig?" Kyle shook his head, "Craig doesn't even like you!"

Eric shrugged, "Yeah, but he makes bitchy comments. I respect that; and he gets a boner for anything space so you two could nerd out."

"Are you being serious right now, like legit, are you?"

He thought about it for a second, "Yes...?"

"Cartman, use that brain of yours for once. If I brought Craig, what would be the point of bringing you? We wouldn't even be hanging out!"

"If I were to be honest here, Kahl. I don't want to do shit all with you, much less look at some goddamn models on my holiday! You were all set to come bark orders, not caring if I _froze my balls_ _off_ over here, and not _once_ did you ask what I wanted to do!"

Kyle patiently breathed in, trying to cool down his boiling blood, "Alright, Cartman. What do _you_ want to do today, that isn't _stupid_ and _bigoted?"_

"I have some rotten eggs I wanted to throw off the overpass."

" **No**."

"...You're such a kill joy...How about we sneak into the movies, or something? Or we could throw eggs at people coming out of the movies?" With an impish grin, he waggled his eyebrows. Kyle wasn't amused.

The tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife, or wad through it like mud in the jungle, or a room flooded with soup. Either one are equally difficult and messy.

"That's not a bad idea."

"What? The sneaking in or the eggs?"

"No, neither of those, just the movies part. We pretty much like the same stuff, so it shouldn't be an issue."

"Can I put some clothes on now, or do you just want to jerk it in my yard?"

"Can you not be a complete moron for one moment in your life?"

"I don't know Kahl, It's pretty hard to-" Kyle grabbed a hold of the door, and shut it. A yelled swear was flung against the wood, but he didn't care.

The hairs rose on his neck, and abruptly he spun around, looking for the source. Stan quietly walked across the street, carrying a shiny bag within his hands as they made eye contact. No matter how hard one resolves to be emotionless near someone, the heart is always first to betray you. Painfully his beat against his chest, accompanying the dull buzz that rang in his ears. It was a strange feeling, comparative to when a person dives underwater, wrapped in a curious silence as you swim.

How must he look, standing on Cartman's porch like a stray. Kyle tore away for the contact when Eric opened the door again, slipping a coat on that he wasn't acquainted with. Obviously meant for autumn, it was a slimming dark grey with a wool scarf that loosely wound around his neck, which was half hidden from the high collar of the jacket. It looked good...but he just wasn't used to seeing Cartman wear anything else, Eric rolled his eyes.

"My jacket is drying, it got dirty yesterday and this is the best I have."

"Oh, it looks..." the words fell dead on his lips. Eric rose his brow, wondering if the daywalker would continue. He didn't, only releasing a sigh as he walked down the porch steps. Together, they crossed the street and headed towards the bus stop.

Awkwardly they stood there, unable to say anything. They were so used to arguing, that casual everyday conversations were uncharted waters. Neither could think of anything to say; Eric brushed back his hair, glancing anywhere but the boy beside him.

"I was thinking..."

"Your first mistake" came the automatic retort, there was a pause as Kyle realized what he said. Before he could apologize, Eric forced the discussion along with an unamused stare, "We might as well go to Denver, the theatres here are shit."

"Are-" Eric waved Kyle's words away, "I mean the evening showings are usually better, so we could go to the planetarium, but not the library. Fuck that."

A smile tugged at the corner of Kyle's lips, "I could always go another time, you don't mind not going with Craig?"

"He's probably busy anyway, sucking dick and drinking coffee."

A seamless ease blanketed them, cozy as they stood for several minutes until the bus showed up. After a ride to the terminal, the boys used the routes posted outside to predict the fastest and easiest bus that would headed to Denver, in the heart of downtown. After three hectic hours, _for Kyle_ , who had to listen to Cartman complaining nonstop, they arrived.

The loud noise was bewildering, especially if you went from a dust particle of a town to the capital city of your state. Filing off of the bus, they entered a sea of people and cars hurrying to reach their own important destination(s). Eric was taking the switch rather well, yawning into the ear of Kyle as moved to the side, away from the hustle.

Another yawn slipped past his lips, stretching his mouth wide until his teeth were bared. Kyle shook his head, "This is why I told you to take a nap!"

"Fuck that," Eric stretched his arms out above his head, "those seats were torture, there's no way I was going to sleep."

Kyle rolled his eyes, "You're such a baby." He took out his cell, "I put in the directions of the planetarium, so we shouldn't get lost."

Eric impatiently watched as Kyle scrolled down, reading the address, "The Denver Museum of Nature & Science is on...2001 Colorado Blvd, so we can hail a taxi to get there."

"Can we get coffee first?"

Kyle sighed, "Do you seriously need some?"

"C'mon, Jew. Have some compassion, I can't stay up late like you can, counting your coins."

"I swear to God, if this is going to be the whole trip-"

"Yeah, yeah" Eric waved it off, "you'll knock my teeth in. Say something new, Kyle, you're starting to sound like a repeating record." Before he could get another word in, the offended boy stomped on his foot, enough to have him crying out in pain. A few people turned around at the sound, but both boys were ignorant to it, with Kyle slipping past the brunette to approach the woman at the ticket booth.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you know where we can get coffee?"

Identified only by her name-tag, Ava peered through the glass that separated her and the polite but curiously angry boy. Moving on to stare at one behind him, affronted, the chunky brown head tried to clutch his injured foot as he cursed. She had seen stranger shit during her job, so she shrugged it off.

"A block from here there's a Starbucks" she pointed to the right with the tip of her manicured finger, "It's on the corner, next to a store called _Tip Top Atomic Shop_ and a _EvGames"_. Nodding his thanks to Ava, Kyle stalked up to Eric, grabbing his wrist and dragging him in the pointed direction.

The loud protesting was given no consideration, even if Eric tugged his wrist out of the other's grip. But that only made Kyle's hold tighten, at one point causing Eric to wince at the vise of it.

"Where are we going?" he whined, taking in the stores they past as they darted over the road and onto a winding sidewalk.

"Starbucks."

"What! I don't want to go to that infested sausage fest!"

"You wanted coffee, Cartman, we're getting some." He glared at the brunette over his shoulder, emerald eyes hard as diamonds, "You don't have to bitch over everything we do, you should just be thankful we're getting anything at all."

"Right, I should be happy that I'm being forced to go to places I don't want. Ring ring, hear that Kahl? That's the sound of kidnapping."

"Do you want me to hit you right now? Because I'm considering it."

That shut Eric up, and the pair continued like that for another string of minutes until they saw the iconic green text and the mascot, the Siren, a topless two-tailed mermaid. The groans coming from Eric were downright pornographic, and he wouldn't stop. Kyle darkly flushed as they headed inside, overwhelmed with the scent of coffee grounds and too many perfumes stuffed into one building.

Kyle thickly swallowed when Eric finally stopped, mumbling out in a whisper that was poorly concealed, "I wonder if we lit a match, if the whole place would combust from the axe body spray fumes. Jesus, the hipsters would be perfect kindling." He elbowed the chunky brunette in the side, telling him to wait as he ordered.

He left him to find an unused table, standing in line behind a young woman who's hair was dyed a violet. With a raised brow he noticed she was wearing overalls, wasn't she freezing her ass off?

Ever so often he would check up on Cartman, making sure he wasn't starting any fights or doing anything inappropriate. Currently the brunette was seated at a circular table, looking bored out of his mind. Kyle frowned as he watched a boy approach him, leaning down slightly to chat.

_What could they possibly be talking about?_

Someone cleared their throat, and disconcertingly Kyle realized that he was next to order. Hoping he wasn't as red as he thought he was, he stepped up to the counter and mumbled out two coffees, one black and the other with an abundance of cream and sugar. As he moved to the side, waiting for their drinks, Kyle couldn't help but glance back at the pair.

The newcomer looked relatively normal, maybe...cute? With wavy black hair just past his ears, and sea-foam eyes. Kyle's gut twisted, and an unnatural hatred solidified. Maybe it was his teeth, white and endearingly crooked.

"Kyle and Eric?"

He handed the money over before he grabbed the drinks, hands burning from the heat, he headed over to the table.

"Kahl" Eric greeted, unusually chipper as the coffee was passed to his awaiting hands, "this is Xavier, he lives nearby. I was just saying how we should get him a wheelchair and shave his head, then maybe he could start his own superhero school."

Kyle cringed at the idea, but didn't comment, favouring to sip his drink.

"It's nice to meet you, Kyle." Xavier held out a hand, "Eric was talking about how you two are going to see the planetarium. I can show you if you want."

_What kid skakes hands?_ Kyle thought as he glared at the appendage, he didn't grab it. Pulling his lips from his cup, he mumbled, "That's nice of you, but we should be fine. C'mon Cartman, you got your coffee."

Ignoring the offended expression, Kyle quickly exited the building, chugging his drink even if it scalded his throat on the way down.


	4. Red Rocket

"Kahl!?"

He ignored the beckoning, hurriedly walking to his destination. It was foolish, even downright childish, but he didn't care. He didn't care about the sound of thunderous steps, racing to reach him down the winding sidewalk. Or the laboured sound of breathing tickling the back of his neck, as simultaneously a hand grasped his sleeve, yanking at him.

He tried to shake himself free from the grip, determined to not turn around. Every attempt was foiled, the hand upon him tightened until it hurt. At that point Kyle knew he was caught.

"What the fuck was that about?!" Eric shouted, hot breath blasting onto Kyle in angry plumes. He shivered in response, hair standing up on end. "Will you at least look at me?!"

Teeth clenched, he turned around. Unable to rid himself of his scowl, nor the annoyance radiating off of him.

Eric scoffed at his expression, half from amusement, the other from bewilderment. "You're mad at _me?!_ " The startled sound of his voice rose in volume, loud enough that the people walking past them glanced towards the two boys, ears eager to listen to any scandalous squabbling.

"I'm not mad at you" Kyle hissed, once again trying to pull his grip from the other for good measure.

Eric's gaze darted to the action before raising up to meet the flustered boy's gaze once again, brow cocked in a way that meant, _You're kidding me, right?_

"Look," Kyle continued "I just want to go to the planetarium. The sooner this trip is done, the faster we can leave each other.

This time Eric voiced the phrase. "You're kidding me, right? This whole trip was your idea, and now you're acting like you're on the rag! How is _any_ of this my fault?!"

"I never said it was your fault!"

"Really, cause this," he gestured at Kyle's stiff body, "is how you hang out with your 'friend'. You just storm out and want to bail."

"I didn't 'storm' out."

"...Okay, I can't do this." Eric finally released his grip, "Obviously this conversation is getting me no where, so let's just look at those stupid stars." With a shake of his head, Eric brushed past the other boy, expression fixed into a false stony disposition.

"Cartman!?" Kyle called out after him, watching until he noticed the eyes latched onto himself. Mindful of the attention it invoked, he hurried to catch up with the brunette, heavily aware of the silence fermenting.

Reduced only to a gloomy mood that seemed constantly on the verge of lashing out, Eric remained mute out of spite. Leaving Kyle to be the one to hail a taxi and give the address, which of course, Eric refused to chip in and pay. Instead he stared out the window, hip pressed hard against the car door until he appeared almost fused to it.

He watched the journey to the museum, arms crossed with a grimace as he observed the citizens going about their day. They were far more interesting than Kyle, whom he ignored fervently, especially his attempt at small talk.

It was awkward for everyone, even the driver who occasionally glanced at them through the rear-view mirror. To make up for it, he turned the radio on. Hoping that the sound would drive away the negative tension that seemed to pulse from the pair in suffocating waves. It didn't help.

* * *

After paying, Kyle slipped out. Letting Eric to shut the door after him, who put a little more force into it than necessary.

Kyle grimaced at the sound, but besides that, didn't comment. He held his cell up, mindful of the people brushing past. Moving to the side, he scrolled through the museum's website, announcing all that he found to the still silent Eric.

"Okay, the entrance is straight ahead, and there should be a large poster for the museum's floors. I can't make them out on here, the font's quality is too crappy. We shoul-Cartman?" He glanced up to find that he was talking to thin air. Briskly his eyes scanned the area for the missing brunette, only to spot him entering the museum.

"Fuck" he whispered under his breath, clenching his grip around his phone as he ran after him. Slipping around the swarm of people, leisurely walking as they left or entered the building, he pushed open the door to find Eric still in the entry way corridor.

Back to him, Eric was staring at the floor map posted onto a pale blue wall, mumbling under his breath. Kyle made his way over, biting his tongue to keep from cursing the other boy out. He traced the same path that Eric was marking with a finger on the laminated paper, dirty nail even more obvious against the stark whiteness of the sheet.

To Kyle, it was repulsive, along with the rest of its joined owner. Impatiently he listened to Eric pointing out the obvious, lazy drawl barely raising above a whisper to state, "First level: Gems & Minerals, Space Odyssey...blah blah...gift shop...Gates Planetarium. Second level: Discovery Zone, boring wildlife and cultural exhibits. Third level: Bailey Library & Archives, th-"

"Yes, they have mummies." Kyle said as he rolled his eyes, "Who cares? All we needed to know was where the planetarium is."

"You hate your people's history that much, Kahl?" Eric replied, finally speaking to the fuming boy beside him.

"Of course not!"

"No, then why all the hate?...Must be because you're jealous there isn't any kosher mummies."

Kyle merely stared, unable to believe that Eric had actually used the words 'kosher' and 'mummies' in the same sentence. After a few drawn out moments, he managed to say, "I honestly can't tell if you're joking, or you're actually this stupid."

"Don't try to use your sneaky Jew ways to turn this around on me, Kahl."

Without even thinking, he socked Eric's right arm, making such he hit it hard. The yelp he received was satisfying, but that was short lived when Eric shoved him back. Enough that he stumbled into a couple passing by; one released his hold on the bag he carried in surprise, something that tripped Kyle seconds later.

Snorts of laughter echoed from the hallway, above the noise of the museum's visitors. Eric was doubled over, gripping his sides as he tried to breathe through it. But every time he glanced up, the sight of Kyle sprawled across the floor, embarrassed beyond belief was enough to have him giggling again.

Eventually he did stop, but only when Kyle gave him a death glare, dusting his pants off after he slowly climbed to his feet. The look he gave promised certain tortuous demise, which was enough to temper the random bursts of chuckling. He trailed behind as they headed towards the ticket booth, letting Kyle pay once again.

He hummed under his breath, swaying his weight on the balls of his feet until Kyle returned. Face seemingly burned into a scowl, he begrudgingly handed Eric a ticket.

Everything was casual at that time, that is, until Eric turned the slip around. Printed on the back was an ad, harmless to most. Eric Cartman was not like most people. He began to sneer at the image, a golden retriever wearing an astronaut's helmet, and prancing before a cherry red spaceship and stars. The whole logo was very reminiscent of the 50's, with a golden ribbon that wrapped around, and written in an elegant writing.

When Eric read what it said, the laughter came back, full force.

**Sparky's Lil' Red Rocket**

"Oh my god! No way, _there's no way!_ Kahl! Kahl, look! Kahl?! Why aren't you looking?!"

* * *

**(Author's Note: This scene has been belatedly added to this fic to make up for the shortness.)**

The doors to the planetarium were heavy, made from steel that chilled your fingertips on contact. It made a shiver run down Kyle's spine, rising goosebumps as he forced himself to go beyond the horde of people by the entrance.

He was still angry at Eric, but the brush of his body against his was comforting. The warmth of it had him unintentionally moving closer, eyes squinting in the dimmed lighting as they followed the neon green lights along the floors. It reminded him of the movie theatres, the last destination of the day. The contrast of it was slightly disorientating, especially from the switch of the intense fixtures outside. Nausea swelled within his throat, something he choked back as he grasped the sleeve of Eric's shirt.

For some reason it pleased him when Eric didn't shrug him off, which he wholeheartedly awaited. This was certainly an unexpected but welcomed surprise.

The hallway which they followed widened, constant as the shape of the room emerged. It seemed almost in the form of a crescent, or at least a high ceiling dome that was half shadowed. Projected onto the heavens above was the swirling image of a plethora of stars, as realistic as the sky outside. The muscles in Kyle's neck began to hurt, painfully seizing as he craned his neck to take everything in. He was thankful that Eric let him hang on, trusting as he blindly led him through the crowd. There was few noises in the room, nothing above a whisper was encouraged. Feeling a wave of vertigo crash into him, reluctantly Kyle brought his head back down.

Besides the brilliant display above them, the room was filled with greatly cushioned reclining seats, each closely placed by one another.

"Hurry up" he hissed, nudging Eric. He received a grumbled complaint in return, but Eric still squeezed his way through the tight aisle rows, all the way to one in the middle. Momentarily releasing his hold, Kyle followed him to his own. Each sat down with a sigh, immediately pushing back to lay down.

Here silence lingered, none willing to speak as the remainder of the room was taken up by equally giddy individuals.

Eric shut his eyes, stifling a yawn as he waited for the show to start. It felt like an eon had passed, but yes, eventually it began.

They had thought it dark before, but now it was near impossible to see beyond the clutch of pitch black. And just as Eric resolved never to see anything again but this desolate emptiness, light erupted in a burst that had them sightless.

As the ceiling transformed into a swirling video of the cosmos, a deep voice beckoned them to a stillness unlike any before.

"... _Welcome to the dark side of the universe, on the hunt for the ultimate cosmic monsters. When scientists scan the heavens._.."

"Holy shit" Eric whispered, sitting up in his seat. He turned to the boy beside him, who was presently fixated on watching the screen. "Holy shit," he tried again, "Kahl...Kahl?" The boy in question refused to acknowledge him. Frustrated by this, Eric took the logical step to get around this obstacle. He kicked him. A shrill whistle of misery escaped Kyle's lips, leg throbbing sharply in pain as his head snapped down to glower in the direction of his object of hatred, " _What?"_

"Do you know who that is?" Eric said excitedly, trying hard to keep his volume hushed.

"What are you talking about?"

"The voice! The..." he gestured around, only to realize that Kyle couldn't properly see him. "You know...the...the.."

"Narrator?" Kyle intoned through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, that's it. The narrator i-" A woman in the row below them twisted around, pressing a finger against her mouth as she shushed loudly. Eric blinked for a second. "Fuck off, lady. I'll shove that finger up your ass." She made a choking sound, but slowly turned back. "Like I was saying, it's Liam Neeson."

"And...I'm supposed to know who that is?"

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" He called out. Someone else from across the planetarium shushed them, and Eric's attitude substantially dropped. "I swear the people in here are a bunch of dicks."

Kyle drew in an exasperated breath, "Maybe they're being rude because you keep talking."

"Maybe I don't give a shit, Kahl. And besides, nothing interesting has happened yet. Like seriously, where are the explosions?"

He shook his head, "I can't believe you."

"You can't believe me?!" Eric hissed, "You're the one who doesn't know Liam Neeson! Heelllllooo, _Taken_...?"

"I don't have time for this, I'm trying to watch the show here."

Eric lowered his voice to a deep raspy pitch, adding a shitty Irish impression as he recited, "If you let my daughter go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you."

Slowly Kyle removed his gaze from the screen once again, and disbelievingly stared at Eric. "What are you talking about right now?"

"Kahl, it's from the movie. C'mon, this is starting to get sad now. Only a complete jackass wouldn't see-"

_SSSsssshhhhh_

"Are you kidding me." Eric leaned forward, gripping the headrest of the seat in front of him. "Hey buddy," he called out, referring to a man sitting diagonally from his position. "I don't care how much you hiss, you're not going to transform into a fucking snake."

The man glared back, "Fuck off. The reason why I'm 'hissing' is because you won't shut up. Listen to your friend, or else I'm coming back there."

Laughter erupted from Eric's mouth, dark and bitter as he flashed a smirk at the man. Embarrassed beyond belief, Kyle tried to sink into his seat, and hopefully disappear forever. "Was that supposed to be a threat?"

"Keep laughing fatty," Eric's eyes narrowed "you'll be stopping real quick when I-" A shoe smacked the man right in the face, who yelped so loud that it vibrated against the walls like a bell.

"Oh fuck." Kyle swore, knowing trouble when he saw it. Forgetting about black holes and Liam Neeson, he hastily stood up and grabbed a hold of Eric's shirt. Just as the cursing man climbed to his feet, already Kyle was stumbling down the aisle, dragging a spitting Eric by the collar.

He tripped a few times before he managed to get them to the exit, eyes not yet accustomed. Praising whoever installed those floor lights, Kyle didn't stop until they made it into the hallway. Balling his hands into fists, there he spun around as soon as the doors slammed shut. "What the fuck was that?! You threw a shoe at someone! A shoe!"

Eric snorted, feigning indifference as he lazily dusted off his clothing. "I know, I was there."

"Y-you...Ugh!" Kyle pulled at his hair. The temptation to punch Cartman's smug face was near impossible to refuse. Gritting his teeth, he pivoted away, breathing heavily. _You can do this Kyle, just breathe. Breathe_. He exhaled until his lungs were empty. To be extra sure he wouldn't break Eric's nose, he counted to ten before he faced the brunette. In a considerably calmer voice, he begged the question of, "Where did you even get it?" His eyes dropped to Eric's two shoe clad feet. When he glanced back up, Eric shrugged at him.

"Someone's, it doesn't matter who's. But look, Kahl. I know you're mad, but look at this way.." He sidled up to Kyle and tossed an arm around his shoulders. He rose a brow, but momentarily allowed it. "...Technically none of this would have happened if you just watched _Taken_ like a normal person. So really, this is your fault." Kyle shoved him away. Brimming with rage, he stormed down the hallway, headed towards the main entrance.

"Kahl, wait! C'mon, stop being an overly emotional Jew... Kahl!?"

He pushed past a second set of doors, dodging a wall of people as he headed towards the washrooms. Chasing him was the sound of his name, drilling into his ears until he followed the helpful posted instructions to a corridor announced only by a sign.

Taking the men's side, he entered. He peered underneath the stalls, no one was here. Thankful, he walked up to one of the many sinks. After twisting a knob, a gush of icy water came forth. Sighing with a furrowed brow, he splashed water into his face.

Already he felt himself calming down.

_**Ping** _

He reached into his pocket, removing his cell. He had one new message, from...Cartman. Groan.

**jew are u crying in the bathroom?**

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, thinking of a million things he could say to insult him. But before he could type any of them out, already he received another text.

**no need to feel bad for leaving me. im talking to stan right now.**

What? Why was that important information? And better yet, why was Cartman talking to Stan? Oh, fuck it. He turned the sink off and headed outside. Casually leaning on the wall across from him was Eric. Raising his eyes from his phone, he gave a shit-eating grin and waved.

Kyle's eyes narrowed.

 


	5. Bubblin' Poppin' Cherries

He still couldn’t wrap his head around it, how things had turned completely wrong. Granted, they still managed to do most of the things on his list, but that took a lot of pulling and pushing to achieve. Kyle darted a glance towards the boy beside him, distantly watching as Eric tossed some more popcorn in the air. He’d been trying for a few minutes to catch a handful of the buttery snack with his gaping mouth. The result being the majority of the popcorn was on the ground, which surely was going to be pleasant for the theatre staff to clean up.

With a sharp exhale from his nose, Kyle faced the screen again. They had been waiting a while for the movie to play, dully watching trailers and upcoming film ‘facts’. Eric surprisingly was taking it well, although he was still an annoyance by making snide comments, and rating everything on being either _rad_ or _shitty_. At least he was keeping quiet… for the most part. It was little jabs that Kyle could withstand, things like that he had no problem with. He understood it was within Eric’s personality, and if he were to be completely honest, some of the jokes that Eric made were funny - when they weren’t stupid and/or racist.

What kept Kyle in such an irritable mood, was the feeling that the universe was laughing at him. Every time he watched another preview go by, he couldn’t help but think that fate was leading up to something. Exactly what? He hadn’t the faintest clue. What he did know, however, was that Eric was relishing in the idea of re-watching Taken.

Feeling the muscle in his left cheek twitch, Kyle busied himself by taking another sip from his pop(soda); mindful not to drink too much. He didn't want to go to the bathroom half way through.

“Dude, you’re not going to regret this.” A voice suddenly whispered. Kyle turned back to Eric, “Liam is a badass in this.”

Kyle hummed, tone not really interested. “It’s probably not even that good.” A hand grabbed onto his arm, squeezing excitedly Eric snorted, “You should have brought a fork, ‘cause you’re going to eat those words.” Kyle dropped his gaze to the hand linking them together, taken aback by the affection behind it, and how it lingered. With one last squeeze, Eric drew his attention to the sudden change in lighting. Clearing his throat, Kyle was unable to shake the restlessness that encased him.

The visibility of the room dimmed, leaving what few people in the theatre to chatter energetically. In response there was some dignified shushing, ceasing the talking at once. Kyle was partially anxious, worried that the sound would have Eric repeating the incident at the planetarium. Thankfully the fear wasn’t necessary, he remained silent the whole time. And despite himself, Kyle began looking forward to the show. It was completely dark for a second, everyone took a breath. That’s when it started.

* * *

 They weren’t that far into the movie, maybe forty-five minutes, but Kyle had to admit.. It wasn’t that bad. The action sequences were cool, and he even felt his nerves being set on edge as the daughter and her friend were kidnapped. If he’d seen it by himself, maybe he’d find the reviews overrated, but with Eric it was hard to not be swept up in his happiness. Even if he liked to call the daughter a “dumb bitch”, it was still a nice experience.

Kyle smiled softly, resting his head on his folded hand.

“Here it comes,” Eric whispered. There was a pause as Liam’s character, Bryan, held the cell phone to his ear. Anticipation was pungent in the humid air, hot from the combined body heat.

_"...If you let my daughter go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you..."_

"Yessss!" Eric hissed, right into Kyle's ear. His smile unknowingly deepened. 

After a few moments the other boy's muffled elation died down, allowing Kyle to once again slip into the plot. Arm aching from being in the same position for so long, he dropped it, letting it fall onto the seat's armrest. Hand splayed, he was soon startled by an object brushing against him. Wordlessly he peered to see what it was. 

Kyle swallowed, mouth dry as he stared. Eric's hand was touching his, he looked to the owner's face. Through the darkness Kyle could tell that Eric hadn't noticed, far too preoccupied with what was happening to Bryan than himself. 

_Calm down, it doesn't mean anything_ , Kyle reasoned. And yet he was unable to ignore how much it was clearly affecting him, the knowledge of which had his face flushing with embarrassment. What made it worse is that it shouldn't matter, they'd known each other pretty much their whole lives, meaning their hands had touched plenty of times before. Why did it matter now? It left him breathless, foolishly fearful that if he inhaled too harshly that Eric's eyes would questioningly meet his. He suppressed a shudder.

These were the questions racing through his head, and despite his attempts, they stayed the duration of the film.

Eventually the focus of his debate(the hand) moved away, which in itself was jarring. The lack of physical contact was unsettling, as in Kyle was caught between missing the sensation and being content with its disappearance.

"Kahl?" He flinched in response, not expecting to be addressed.

"What?" As the bitter word left his mouth, Kyle blinked in shock. Eric was standing, brow furrowed as he clutched the popcorn bag and his pop.

"Uh, the movie is over, c'mon let's go. Unless you plan on spending the night here...?"

"I.." Kyle climbed up, putting on his coat. He'd been so lost in scrutinizing everything that he missed the credits rolling down the screen, and the lights turning back on. Blankly he took in people filing out, laughing and casually talking.

"Dude, are you okay?" The genuine worry in the brunette's voice had Kyle nervous. He hurriedly picked up his own drink, attempting to come across nonchalant as he shrugged.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

The lie was blatant to both their ears, but Eric merely pursed his lips. "Fine, don't tell me. I'm not going to kiss your ass until you tell me what's wrong."

"I don't need you to do that."

Rolling his eyes, Eric gestured to the side, "Whatever, just hurry up - I don't want to be here all day."

Huffing, Kyle shuffled his way down the aisle, the other boy not that far being him.

* * *

 Tracing their steps back to the bus terminal had been mostly silent, neither willing to broach the strange tension between them. For the most part, it was Kyle's fault. His replies to Eric had been clipped short, until eventually the other gave up.

Kyle shifted in his seat, sighing as he glanced at the boy beside him. He'd been asleep for half an hour already, snoring face leaning against the cool glass. Past his profile, the surroundings were painted in the colours of the afternoon. The day had vanished fairly quickly. With Eric's unconsciousness, Kyle took the time to study the familiar features, tracing the slope of his nose and the roundness of the brunette's cheeks.

Absently Kyle reached for his drink, welcoming the taste of cherry cola. How many times had he heard Eric tease him with, _"I guess we can say you've popped your cherry... Ayyyyy? Get it Kahl? Do you ge-"_

Snorting at the quip, he set his bottle back into his lap, held in place by his thighs. He had to admit, his friend/enemy was good at one-liners. Though he'd never actually say that, Eric's ego was big enough as it is. Frowning at the thought, Kyle let his gaze wander to his... _the_ hand. It closed into a fist.

A frustrated sigh filled the bus; what the hell was wrong with him?

 


	6. Boy Smells Boy

Kyle opened his eyes, blinking slowly at the stretch of a bus’ interior. Everything seemed normal at first, even if Kyle didn’t have any recollection of getting on or buying a ticket. To him, it was always like this. However, as he paid more attention to his surroundings, the distortion seemed to clear.

Everything was cast in warm and gentle tones, shadows exaggerated so it was barely lit.

He leaned back, leather underneath his body creaking. Boredom borderlining on being serene, he turned to the fogged window to his side. Peering out, the flickering images of trees passed over. A landscape that was meant to be in shadow theatre, a backdrop to a play.

The sound of doors opening had him looking away, eyes landing on a figure handing a slip to the faceless bus driver. Most likely a ticket. And before he could properly see this unknown person’s face, he was standing in the aisle next to Kyle’s seat.

“Can I sit next to you?”

He blinked before nodding, surprised that Eric didn’t choose one of the many vacant places. They were literally the only ones there, well, besides the driver. “Sure.” He moved to the side, making room until he was pressing against the cool wall.

Smiling softly, Eric gratefully sat down. Staring straight ahead, he politely let Kyle drink his fill of his appearance. While the texture around them was similar to oil paint, Eric was made from a different medium. Kyle couldn’t put his finger on it, but Eric glowed. Maybe it was the fairy lights strung on the ceiling, something he only now noticed. It was hard to take in such trivial things, his eyes didn't want to stray from the hefty brunette.

He was wearing this varsity football jacket, adorned with symbols for a team that Kyle didn't know. What he did know was that the red and white of it looked insanely good on him, more than it should, and his rough-around-the-edges jeans weren't helping. Shit, what was Kyle wearing? Did it look just as nice? When glancing down to his own body, he was startled to find it covered in the green fuzzy material of a pea costume. He squinted, was it Halloween? What's the day today, do you know? But before he could dwell on the thought, question the rationale, Eric's hand was touching his.

Any of his string of logic, dreams, and fears were forgotten. In it's place was the warmth of a hand that isn't your own, cradling and comforting. Kyle found himself staring again, only this time Eric met his gaze. 

"Wasn't today great?"

"Yeah." Kyle didn't remember what had happened, only that he liked whatever it was that made Eric's hand hold his. The fairy lights shone brighter, highlighting the tousled locks of Eric's hair. Even with the intensity, Kyle's eyes didn't hurt. A thumb rubbed his knuckle gently, and he smiled in response.

"Kyle."

"Eric," he breathed.

"Kyle..."

"Ye-"

"Kyle!" He jolted up, dizzy with the sudden movement.

The morning light was streaming through his room, the book he'd been reading late last night still on his bed. Glaring through the daze of sleep, he dragged a hand down his face. Body aching, he rolled his shoulders.

"Kyle! Breakfast is getting cold!"

Sighing, he shouted "Okay!" to his mother. Grumbling to himself, he gave his room another look over, image of the bus still lingering behind his eyelids. Subconsciously his hand twitched, like it was searching for something to hold onto. Kyle flopped onto his bed with a groan, pulling the covers back over his head.

"What's wrong with me," he whispered, "how can I dream anything involving _him?"_ He felt his own forehead, unsure if the warmth was from a fever, the heat of his breath condensed in a small space or his blushing. He liked to believe it was a fever, anything else made no sense.

* * *

It was colder that day than previous ones, the wind that swept across the town was icy. Breeze from the mountains, it rattled those who wandered the streets. Although summer, it made people bring out their thicker coats from storage. Not like that was a problem, in South Park they were never too far away.

Taste of that morning's coffee on his tongue, Eric stood on his front porch, contemplating. Brows drawing together in a scowl, he let out a large sigh. Shouldering a plastic grocery bag, he drew the scarf around his neck tighter, burying his chin in the woolen fabric.

And with the wind soon on his back, he lumbered over to a dark green house on his street. The light snow underfoot crunched softly, announcing his presence. Quickly he jogged up the stone steps, pressing the doorbell in rapid intervals. On the 6th incessant ring, the door was swung open.

"What the fuck is your problem?"

Barely Eric kept from flinching, trying not to step away from the wilting glare. Even though he'd grown considerably taller than Shelly Marsh, that didn't stop his childhood fear from rearing its ugly head. That, and the knowledge that Shelly's strength hadn't diminished over the years.

Scanning her clothes, rumpled pajamas accompanied with her ever messy hair, Eric attempted an apologetic smile. Honestly, it was more of a grimace.

"I need to talk to Stan, Shelly do you mind getting him?"

Shelly snorted, grip tightening on the door's handle, threatening to close it. "Like I'd do anything for a turd like you!"

A darkness boiled within Eric, righteousness mixing with anger, leaving him on the verge of lashing out. Moments like these, when Eric's temper flared, it was hard to get a hold of himself and think things through.

"What's going on?"

Shelly glanced over her shoulder, frowning into her home. "One of your shit friends is here, do I need to say anything else?" Stan mumbled softly, quiet enough that Eric couldn't hear. Whatever said, it seemed to work, making Shelly reluctantly move to the side. Although not before she gave Eric the middle-finger, "My oatmeal is getting cold anyway..."

Eric stuck his tongue out at her retreating back, stopping when Stan took his older sister's place. 

"Hey," he said; his hair was in his eyes, but Eric could still see the smile in them. He wore a grunge band t-shirt, several sizes too big. A hand-me-down from his father, that was paired with checkered pj bottoms. From the porch Eric could smell him, even if he actively didn't want to, and that's what he told himself. It wasn't like Stan smelt like anything other than boy: patchouli, sweat, and the apples he just ate. Eric breathed in deeply, pretending he wasn't acting like a total creep.

"Eric?"

He stopped inhaling, "I uh, wanted to know if you'd come with me?" 

Stan rose a brow, confused as to exactly what he was being invited to. Eric shrugged his shoulder, drawing attention to the plastic bag. "Champ."

"Let me get my coat."

* * *

Their shoulders brushed together as they walked down the sidewalk, small talk distant with the howling wind. Not like it mattered, each other's company was plenty. With light snow, the foliage thrived. Stubborn stalks of grass and wild flowers protruded through, vibrant against the whites. Consoled, Eric felt his mood soar, to the point of letting out a cheerful whistle.

Stan eyed him, taken aback by the sound. Slowly he grinned, purposely bumping shoulders with the brunette.

Together the journey ended quicker than either would have liked, arrival at the alleyway snatching their town's natural beauty. In its place was that familiar odor of garbage. 

"Ugh, how can it smell worse than last time?"

Eric took a step inside, "'Cause there isn't any rain?"

"I guess," Stan mumbled, following after.

Mindful of any trash, they cautiously walked to the end of the passageway. And just like prior, they found themselves standing before the gate. However unlike then, when Eric placed the bag onto the ground, Stan helped. Rummaging through when Eric was putting the bowl down, he grabbed a ziploc baggie filled with cat food. 

Dumping a generous portion in, Stan then took a step back, joining Eric. Standing close, they braced against the wind - and in mute acceptance, leaned towards the other's heat.

They waited for several minutes, moment pierced when Eric finally decided to speak. "She's probably exploring or something."

"Yeah," Stan agreed, noticing the furrow of his friend's brow. "Let's give her some time."

Eric hummed in agreement, but made no move to leave. Trying his best not to appear concerned, like there wasn't anything to worry about, Stan threaded his arm through the brunette's. He gave it was small pull, eyes flickering to the alleyway entrance, the gate, and then back to Eric's face. 

"C'mon," Stan whispered before an idea struck him. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

A slumped broad set of shoulders shrugged, indifferent when Stan started to lead their owner away. 

"Well, let's get you something to eat, okay?"

A smile wormed itself onto Eric's face, "...But only if you pay."

"Deal."

* * *

Blankly Kyle stared at his phone, absently chewing on his thumb's nail. He was still looking at his Google search for, _'what does it mean if you dream about your friend holding your hand??'_   The result had been less than insightful.

An online dream dictionary he had chosen said: 

_1\. You are not being understood or someone is not understanding you._

 

That made sense, his whole existence has been about not being understood. But if that was the case, why wasn't he having a dream about him holding hands with someone like Eric(his mother) all the time? 

_2\. The dream may also symbolize feelings of loneliness._

 

He couldn't help but glance in the direction of the house next door, heart aching. Maybe. Things without Stan have been... _hard_. They'd always been close, friends against the world. And now that they weren't speaking, it left behind a huge gap in Kyle's life. A place that he wasn't sure how to fill, and that scared him. Was his subconscious trying to tell him that Cartman could never be a proper replacement?

Sighing, he scrolled down the website to the next reason, and immediately regretted that decision.

_3\. To dream that you are holding hands_ _with someone represents love, affection and your connection with that person._

 

Wordlessly he exited the browser, shut his phone off, and dropped it onto his bed. Pale and sickly to anyone who now saw him, Kyle grabbed a pillow and began to scream into it.

 _" **Whaaaaattttt thhhhhheeeee fuuuuuuucccckkkkk!** "  _There was no way, no fucking way! Kyle did **NOT** love Cartman. The possibility had his stomach twisting, nausea leaving him breathless.

"Calm down," he whispered - mouth filled with fabric, "That website doesn't know anything." What was known was that he, Kyle Broflovski, wasn't gay - not like there is anything wrong with that... He just didn't have a penchant for dudes or dicks... He just happened to have a weird dream about a childhood friend/enemy and they held hands. That's all. Totally normal, nothing strange. A website wasn't going to have him suddenly realizing anything different, especially if it was totally bullshit like this one.

Kyle groaned, letting the pillow fall into his lap. In all likelihood it was the book he had been reading last night, he tended to have weird and vivid dreams when he stayed up. Yeah, that's it...

Accusingly he picking it up, glaring at the cover like it'd reveal everything. "This is your fault," he hissed, tossing it onto the nightstand. Out of sight, out of mind. But just to be sure, he climbed off of his bed, crossing his room to grab his wallet from his desk. And sure enough it was still inside, his library card.

A photo of a younger version met his gaze, smile reflected to his scowl. Satisfied, he snapped the wallet closed. 

"Mom!" He shouted, slipping out of his room and into the hallway.

"What is it?!" Came a shout from the floor below.

"Are you still going to the grocery store?"

"Yes..?"

He jogged down the stairs, sliding on the flooring when he hit the living room, "Can you drop me off at the library? I need to look something up."

 


	7. Not Those Blue Waffles

They sat together at a small rounded table, knees touching. Usually either one would be annoyed at the lack of leg room, but for today it felt good, almost intimate. Stan looked away from the cafe's menu, placing the thick laminated paper down. "Do you know what you want?"

Eric shrugged, brows furrowing as he went over the options again. "I don't know, everything looks like shit."

Stan snorted, leaning back in his chair, "Well whatever you choose, it's on me today."

"That's the thing," Eric set his menu down, "I can't get any of the good stuff 'cause I know you're poor as fuck."

"Hey, I'm not that bad." Stan pretended to be insulted, but he knew what Eric was doing. In his own backhanded way, the brunette was showing that he cared. He didn't want Stan to spend too much, he just had to hurl insults around before he could get his message across.

Stan smiled at that, sometimes you had to look closely to see the kindness behind Eric's actions. "How about the blueberry waffles? They look good."

Eric pursed his lips in thought, "I guess... You can't fuck up waffles too bad." Stan fought back a chuckle. "Okay that's done, we just need that idiot to finally give us our drinks and then we can order." He turned around his chair, looking for the waitress from before. "Where is that dumb bitch?"

Shushing his friend lightly, Stan spotted their waitress crossing the room to their table. Stopping in front of them, she began to take their drinks from a platter. "An orange juice," she mumbled passing Stan the glass, "and your coffee." Gently she set a small cream pitcher, a spoon and a sugar bowl with it. Standing up straight, she took a notebook and a pen from her apron pocket. "Now what can I get for you?"

Stan glanced to Eric, smiling when the brunette nodded, turning to their waitress he said "Two orders of blueberry waffles, please." She quickly jolted it down. 

"And," Eric cut in "a thing of bacon on the side. A lot. I don't want you guys to skimp out." 

The waitress flicked a smile at him, "Of course not. And is that everything for today...?" Eric grunted, now indifferent as he began pouring cream into his mug. He didn't care, he got what he wanted. She questioningly peered at Stan.

"Yes, please." He responded, expression apologetic. She left them, taking the menus with her as she went. Stan gave Eric a sidelong look.

Feeling the heat of his gaze, Eric lifted his head, raising a brow. "What?"

"Nothing." Stan mumbled, shaking his head. He picked up his glass, lowering his face to take a sip. They were silent for a moment, allowing the sound of the cafe's radio to cut in. It was some generic pop song, perfect for background music.

"Do you think she'll spit in our food?"

Stan's lips twitched, "Has anyone ever  _not_ spat in your food?" Eric mulled that over, picking his spoon up. After a moment he shrugged, "They'd be stupid if they didn't, wasted a perfectly good opportunity." His friend snorted, amused.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Hey, you're the one hanging out with me." Eric smiled crookedly, "What does that say about _you?"_ Stan guffawed at Eric, unsettled by the sudden saucy wink from the brunette.

"God, all of my friends are a bunch of weirdos." Lightly Eric kicked him under the table, Stan mockingly winked back.

* * *

Kyle ducked his head down to peer inside the car, "Thanks for dropping me off, mom. I'll be home before lunch."

"Just be sure to text when you're on your way, okay?" Kyle nodded. "I'll see you soon, bubby. Have fun!" Kyle stood up, watching the passenger's window roll up. Stepping back, he waited for his mom to drive off before he headed towards the public library. 

Lightly jogging up the stone steps, he pulled the heavy front door open and entered. Inhaling the immediate scent of books, Kyle smiled. The library was like a second home to him, a place where he could get some peace and quiet from everything and everyone. Rounding the corner of the main entrance, he approached Ms. Herman at the front desk. As kids they had always made jokes about how ancient she was, but moments like these Kyle really questioned how long she'd live for. At this stage in his life he wholeheartedly believed that the elderly librarian would outlive everyone.

"Hello, Ms. Herman!" He loudly greeted. Unsure if she had her hearing aids in today.

She looked up from her crossword, "Little Broflovsky! How are we?"

"Broflovski." Kyle corrected under his breath.

"What?"

"I said I'm fine, Ms. Herman!" 

She tapped her pen against her paper, "That's good. Need help finding a book today?" Kyle nodded, leaning in so he could say it directly into the librarian's ear. "Where can I find some books on dreams?!"

"Did you say dreams?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, that would be in religion and spirituality - 200."

"Thank you!" Perfect, he knew exactly where that was, right next to the philosophy and psychology section. Hands stuffed into his jean pockets, Kyle wandered down the twisting aisles. Reading the numbers on book spines until he reached the area he was looking for. Under the category of dreams he was drawn to a particular dark blue tome, on the cover was the image of a silver crescent moon with a face. Written in cursive, the name of it was: _The Ultimate Dictionary of Dream Language_   by Briceida Ryan. Just what he needed. Plucking it from the shelf, he promptly flipped through the contents, starting with the letter 'b'. Going through a couple of pages, he went down the line of words.

 _...burrow...bury... to dream of being buried alive...._ Moses, he was thankful he hasn't had that one yet. And finally... _bus._ "Here we go," he whispered, excitement building.

 _Bus: an overwhelming problem will finally be resolved after much work. You will experience a great deal of satisfaction once it is finally over._ Squinting, he read the text again. They got all of that from a bus? Maybe it meant he was going to be happy when Cartman and him finally got on good terms with one another.  "Then why did we hold hands?" He moved on to the letter 'h', hoping the answer would be there.

_To be holding hands: all doors that were formerly closed to you will now be open and other people will begin to view you in a different way. You will enjoy many new opportunities and achieve success._

Huh... Not what he expected. But a troubling question rose up to forefront of Kyle's mind, did he _want_ Cartman to think of him differently? _I mean all of our fighting can be exhausting but..._ Kyle wet his dry lips, slowly closing the book. Puzzled by his conflicting emotions, he took the book with him as he headed to the front desk. Just in case he had any new weird dreams.

* * *

Laughing at Eric's joke, Stan popped another piece of waffle into his mouth. He smiled around the delicious taste, syrup dripping from the corner of his lips and onto his chin. Eric looked back up, grinning as he continued his story of how when they were kids he had convinced Butters that a spirit of a little girl had possessed a frozen turkey. 

"There he was, sweater on a fucking turkey, trying to sneak it out of a bathroom window!" Cartman started to laugh, tearing up as he gripped the side of the table.

Choking a bit, Stan swallowed his food before asking, "D-did he do it?"

"Hell no! Ms. Choksondik caught him red-handed! The bitch tackled him and the next thing I know they're rolling on the floor, fighting over the turkey! Obviously Butters was crying the whole time, 'you can't take her!' God, I nearly pissed myself watching."

"Jesus" Stan shook his head. "Do you remember her? Ms. Choksondik?"

"Yeah, I remember her wonky eye and hiding in her dead body." Cartman stabbed at his waffle.

"Things were simpler then."

"Hm." The pair looked at each other once again, and immediately broke out into laughter. This happy atmosphere followed them through the rest of their meal until it was time to pay, grabbing his wallet from his coat, Stan put his money for the bill on the table.

"I'll pay the tip."

Startled, Stan stared at Eric. "You don't have to." _What gives? Cartman never pays tips._ Thinking that the brunette was in an unbelievably good mood(which was a little scary), he watched in confusion as Eric dug into his pajama bottoms. His wonder soon answered when Eric put a wad of lint and a lone button down.

"Cartman," he warned. Eric ignored him, donning his coat on. Quickly looking over his shoulder, Stan followed suit and put on his jacket again before he followed his friend out of the cafe. Stomachs full, they lazily greeted the chilled air of outside with pleased smiles. "I can't believe you did that, that's so..."

"Cool?" Eric offered with a smirk.

"Gross!"

Eric chuckled, hitting his shoulder into Stan's. Falling into cozy silence, they walked down the main street until they found a bus stop. Stopping there, Eric looked up at the cloudy morning sky. Steam leaving his mouth in bursts, he breathed, "Thanks."

Stan smiled softly, not pressing it as he said, "No problem, dude." Things became quiet between them again. Staring at Eric from the corner of his eye, Stan took in how flushed his cheeks were from the cold, and his sleep ruffled hair. Eric turned to him, noticing the gaze. Stan didn't know why, but he suddenly became awkward, pretending he wasn't admiring his friend's face. 

Cartman studied him for a moment, then took a step towards Stan, bridging the distance as he leaned in. Freezing at the movement, Stan's mind became blank as Eric's thumb brushed a line across his chin. Transfixed, he watched as Eric took that same thumb and put it in his mouth, sucking on it. "You had syrup on you" he explained around the digit. Stan cleared his throat, thankful when he saw the bus approaching them. His chin still felt warm where Eric had touched him.

"Weird" he whispered to himself, stomach doing a funny dip. He blamed the waffles.

 


	8. Let's Watch Space Jam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, there everyone! I'm finally back from the abyss that is writer's block. I apologize for how short this chapter is, but I figured I just needed to do this chapter to get back into the rhythm of writing.  
> Thanks towards everyone who's been waiting for this hunk of trash to update, I plan to get back into a regular updating schedule again.  
> Much Love, 
> 
> \- Claire(BookishTea) xx
> 
> Ps. And yes the next chapter will be a lot longer, lol.

Carefully they walked down the sidewalk, mindful of the ice there. A sharp breeze was on their backs, pushing them hurriedly to their destination. Eric glanced to his companion, ever so often Stan shivered. Slowly his eyes dipped down to look at his pajama bottoms, the fabric was comfy but thin. Unwillingly he said, "You okay?"

Stan peered at him, raising a brow "Yeah why?" 

Eric pursed his lips, not wanting his friend to think that he was a pussy - that he cared. Along the stretch of the street, their houses were coming into view. "Never mind" he mumbled. There was silence as Stan furrowed his brows, contemplating what could possibly be wrong with the hefty brunette. Okay, there was a lot of things, but something that didn't involve all the bigotry.

"Dude" Stan started, clearing his throat. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Jesus" Eric finally muttered, and in a clearer voice said "yes, mom. I'm okay, now can we drop it?"

Stan's eyes narrowed, and the silence grew once more. Approaching his house, Stan watched as Eric went to wordlessly walk past his. He reached out, grabbing onto the brunette's wrist. The sudden contact had Eric blinking, turning around in a startled stupor. Stan with his messy hair was staring at him, expression confused and... Eric gulped, recognizing the other emotion. Worried.. worried for _him._

"Look, Cartman." Stan struggled to find the proper words, mashing them together until something made sense. "I'm sure Champ is fine, and-"

Eric broke out into a tired laugh, using his free hand to scrub down the side of his face. Of course, naive Stan would think _that's_ what was upsetting him. Which yes, it was partially true, but not now. In fact, he had momentarily forgotten about the toyger. Now that she had popped back into his mind, a pit of guilt settled in the bottom of his stomach. He exhaled. "Dude" he began to say, then decided to start again. "Stan, I'm all right. As all right as someone like me can be." He peered at his friend, confused by the expression Stan was giving him. Muscles in his face drawn tight, brows lowered - he looked like he was constipated.

Before Eric could laugh at the sight, he was pulled forward. The prompt action had him cursing, caught off balance. "Shit! Warn a g-" Eric stiffened, unsure what to do with his hands. He was standing on a sidewalk, and some dude was hugging him. He shifted his weight on his feet, looking heavenwards as he felt the other's body warming him. Eric attempted to clear his throat, but it felt like something was lodged in there. A hand was on his back, rubbing soothing circles. As embarrassing as this was, nothing compared to the realization that Eric was blushing. "Shit" he whispered again, hoping the other boy couldn't hear his heart pitifully pounding.

What was he supposed to do? Shove Stan off of him? Say no homo? What did it mean that he actually liked it.. the hug? Hands shaking, he wound them around his friend, awkwardly giving a few pats. A classic move for being at a family reunion and some nameless relative embraces you. 

"I just wanted to say" Stan exhales, and Eric shudders in response. His breath is on his neck, sugary from the maple syrup. "I'm here for you." Eric doesn't know what to say, so he just stands there dumbly. Eventually his need for a decision disappears, Stan is already pulling away, staring at him with a expression that had Eric gulping anxiously. It said he cared, and Eric didn't know how to deal with that.

"I gotta..." Eric gestures with his thumb over his shoulder, "I gotta go." He walked away, more like scurried, but he left Stan behind on that cold sidewalk. Even as he hurried up the steps and unlocked his door to get in, he could still feel eyes on him. It made his skin crawl. "C'mon" he hissed to his trembling hand, eventually managing to unlock the door and hastily went inside. Only when the door slammed shut did he let out a loud sigh of relief. He unzipped his jacket, slipping his hand in to rest on his chest. Placing his head on the door, he felt his heart pound. "Fuck me" he whispered, hoping his sweating palms and the ache in his chest was because of some heart burn. Deep down he knew it wasn't, but everyone likes to pretend, don't they?

He took a step back, taking off his jacket fully and putting it in the closet. In the process of slipping out of his boots, he jumped a foot in the air when someone started to knock on the door. Swearing loudly, and fearing it would be Stan again, angrily Eric yanked the door open. The curse on his lips died, wilting as he stared at Kyle.

Ignoring the flabbergasted look he was getting, Kyle brushed past him, coming inside as if he'd been invited. "I brought some movies for us to watch."

"Movies?" Eric mumbled, like he's only now heard of the word. 

"Movies" Kyle repeated, taking his own jacket and shoes off. He walked past Eric and to the living room, carrying a filled grocery bag. He padded over to the TV, turning it on and then dropping the bag to the floor. Eric just came in when Kyle was kneeling in front of the entertainment system, flipping through the channels until the DVD icon came up. The situation now dawning on him, he stalked over, hands balled into fists.

Shadow looming over, unimpressed Kyle looked over his shoulder, raising a brow. 

 _"You,"_   Eric stressed "are going home." 

"Um no," Kyle scoffed "not until we finish watching a movie together." Eric threw his hands up into the air.

"Why would I want to do that!? I'm tired, I want a nap!"

"You're tired?!" Kyle climbed to his feet, scowling "It's barely the afternoon!?"

"Jew, I can tired if I want to be." Eric curled his lip with a sneer, "I just got back from hanging out with Stan." Kyle bristled for a second, before faking a sense of nonchalance.

"And why would I care about that?" He couldn't help but tap his foot, frowning when Eric shook his head.

"I'm sick of this," Eric mumbled "you two fighting. Why don't you go back to being besties, and leave me alone." Unnecessarily he shoved past Kyle, stomping as he left the room and took the stairs up to his bedroom. Kyle sighed loudly, frustrated with the brunette's over dramatic antics. Hearing the door slam shut, he went up the stairs to knock on the bedroom door.

"Cartman, stopping acting like a baby and come out." Kyle pressed his ear into the wood, listening as tiny metal music filtered through - great, now he was wearing his headphones. Standing alone in the hallway, Kyle peered down, staring at his hand. The one that dream Cartman had held. "Whatever" he whispered, far more annoyed with how unhappy he sounded. "I'll come back when you aren't being an asshole."

* * *

 

Eric lifted one of his headphones up, listening to the Jew walk back down the stairs. He sighed at the eventual front door being closed, rolling over in his bed. His cell was resting beside his head, messages opened up for Stan. With a swipe he exited out of the app, turning off his cell to blankly stare at his wall. His stomach was being weird again, making flips of unease rise up. He didn't know what it meant, and whether it was towards Stan or Kyle. Groaning Eric grabbed his pillow, covering his face with it as he screamed. 

**Author's Note:**

> I promised myself I wouldn't start another multi-chapter story until I finished the others, but oh well...  
> This fic is inspired by the post that wolfthedragon made, you can find it here:  
> http://wolfthedragon.tumblr.com/post/147956697438/bookishteaandart-wolfthedragon-i-dislike


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